


and you run to catch up with the sun (but it's sinking)

by erah, Naiesu



Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, Canon Compliant, Childhood Trauma, Defying Fate, Deviates From Canon, Drama & Romance, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Eventual Romance, F/M, Fate & Destiny, Horniness, LGBTQ Character, LGBTQ Character of Color, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pining, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sex, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Soulmates, Unwilling Heroes, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-29
Updated: 2020-09-28
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:35:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26704576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/erah/pseuds/erah, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Naiesu/pseuds/Naiesu
Summary: He moves just far enough away that he’s out of immediate kicking range, sitting up and leaning against the wall with his porridge in his hands. “Always got me on your mind, huh,M’situ?Really, I’m not surprised. I see the way you look at me.”“Unfortunately, you are. You have a habit of being the most insufferable, irritating person I’ve ever met,” she says matter-of-factly.He smiles despite himself, happy for no good reason. “Flattery will get you everywhere.”~What could go wrong when two strangers who meet on a prison cart heading to their deaths end up the most powerful people in Skyrim? Besides being forced to travel together by a fate neither of them wants to face while despising each other, nothing really.
Relationships: Female Dovahkiin | Dragonborn/Original Male Character(s), Male Dovahkiin | Dragonborn/Original Female Character(s)
Kudos: 2





	and you run to catch up with the sun (but it's sinking)

**Author's Note:**

> Please note this is based on a roleplay between Erah and I and has been edited to look through Cael's POV

“For some people, “the point of no return” begins at the very moment their souls become aware of each others’ existence.”

― C. JoyBell C.

**Sundas, 17th of Last Seed, 4E 201**

“Stop dragging your feet, Prisoner. Onto the cart.”

They’ve been stopped for some time on the side of the road, and Cael watches with an absentminded kind of interest as the guard drags someone from the caged in wagon across from them. It’s a Redguard, thickly muscled and dressed in rags, wrists bound together and head down. They have dried blood on their forehead, and when the guard speaks they blink blearily in the sunlight.

They struggle, but their movements are weak and they end up in the back of the cart, thrown onto the floor. There are Imperials surrounding them, armor glinting and hands hovering on their swords. A woman makes eye contact with Cael and scowls.

“That’s the last one,” a man calls up to the driver, stepping away from the cart as a sign for them to move on. “We’re almost at Helgen now.”

Cael watches the Redguard struggle to their feet, looking them over curiously. He wonders what they’ve done to end up in the back of a prison cart, but based solely on their physique it’s not hard to guess. _Who did you have to kill to have Imperials hunting you down?_

Someone pushes the Redguard further into the cart, and the man who had spoken climbs up onto his horse, looking over at them with tired eyes. “Let’s get this over with.”

The cart starts moving almost immediately. Cael rocks in his seat, feeling every splinter in the wooden bench slide through the thin fabric of his pants. He shifts, uncomfortable, and works his teeth around the dirty rag he’s been gagged with. The Nord across from him—Cael thinks his name is Ralof—glances at him and then down at the Redguard. If they all weren’t bound Cael thinks he would help them up. _Noble bastard._

The Redguard stumbles to their feet, and Cael raises his eyebrows when he finally catches their face. It’s a woman, an obvious warrior. She glances at him, face twisted and murderous, and through the blood and bruises he thinks she might be fairly attractive. He smirks around the gag and hopes it’s seen for the challenge it is. _Are you going to try to kill me?_

She looks him over once, much the same as he’s done to her, and her lip twists more. Disgust. _That’s a first._ The cart rocks and she nearly falls, and he huffs a laugh when she stumbles to her seat beside Ralof. She doesn’t look like she belongs between them—it’s obvious who the murderers and thieves are, and she doesn’t quite blend in with the Stormcloak soldier cliche.

His eyes fall to Ulfric with disdain. He’s seen him around Windhelm before, knows he’s beaten and killed and usurped his way to the top to protect Skyrim’s heritage. At least those are the excuses. Defending the land against an Empire advocating for peace and equality just so the Nords can spit on outsiders without repercussions. _Even when those foreigners are born on your soil._ Cael wonders if Ulfric remembers him and knows he doesn’t. _But I remember you._

They’re both gagged, and he’s been on this cart for days, teeth grinding into cloth to give himself something to do. He’s sure the more recent prisoners are curious. They know Ulfric, everyone does. He’s got a knot in his mouth because of a voice that can Shout men to pieces. Cael is gagged because he’d nearly finessed his way out of his bindings.

He had said something a few days ago to the driver, something he doesn’t quite remember—playing up some sickness, something wrong with him that needed immediate attention—and as soon as they let him out into the bushes he had bolted. Unfortunately he didn’t get far, and they had gagged him and bound up his ankles, too. 

Cael looks down the road, seeing the great stone watchtowers of Helgen and the Throat of the World towering over top. He watches the clouds swirl high above them, as though disturbed by something, and breathes an uncharacteristic sigh. He knows where they’re going. Knows he has only has a fraction of an hour before he’s looking up at the sky one last time. _The last thing I’ll see._

He’s never seen an execution, and certainly hasn’t been a part of one. They didn’t do them back in Windhelm—it wasn’t important enough for that. Not according to Ulfric Stormcloak, of course, but he was just another rich silver-spoon lording over his own personal cesspool. Funny that at the end of the day as much as he tried to separate himself from the elves under his boot the two of them ended up in the same boat.

Cael glances over at him, curious to see the look on his face, but it’s the same murderous expression it’s been the whole way. Ralof has assumed it’s because of their circumstances, but Cael knows it’s because Ulfric feels he’s better than this. Too good, too powerful a jarl to be carted to his death with common soldiers and thieves.

Cael winks at Ulfric, worming his way under his skin, and a muscle slides in Ulfric’s jaw.

Ralof is still looking at the woman, who finally seems to have settled in with them and is glancing around at the road, the treeline. Judging where they are and how she can escape. Not sparing a moment to look at the rest of them.

“Got a name?” Ralof asks her after a long few moments of quiet. He’s been talking to all of them throughout the journey, even though out of the five of them two can’t speak back.

The woman finally looks over at them, barely glancing at Cael with stormy grey eyes before meeting Ralof’s gaze. “Not one that will matter when our heads roll,” she says, rough. She shifts in her clothes, eyes falling to Ulfric with a cool sort of respect. _Maybe she is a Stormcloak, then._ She looks surprised to see him. _“He_ does, though.”

“He does,” Ralof says, immediate. The submissiveness, the unwavering loyalty, makes Cael roll his eyes. “And I’d fight by his side whether our heads rolled for it or not.”

The Redguard holds his gaze, seemingly gauging his words and reactions, and nods slowly. Once. “Call me Sauti.”

Ralof smiles. It’s strong, pleased, but somewhat resigned. “A shame we’re all going to meet our Gods today. Well met, Redguard. I’m Ralof, of Riverwood.”

Just another blonde soldier. Cael is thankful he at least has morals and hasn’t just been talking mead and fighting and how proud he is to be a Nord. _Well, maybe the fighting._ The other Nord is one with dark hair, somebody they picked up not long before Sauti, and he introduces himself as Lokir of Rorikstead. A horse thief, apparently. _A stupid thing to die over._

Cael rolls his eyes again when the three of them start a conversation about the Stormcloaks. He’s not surprised. They worship Ulfric’s every breath and follow him to the ends of the world, and for what? Pride in staying segregated from the rest of the continent? _What’s the point?_

The only thing Cael cares about is Ulfric himself. He knows what Skyrim would look like ruled by a self-proclaimed king, and doesn’t want any part of it. He was on his way to the capital, to Cyrodiil, to escape everything that Ulfric was offering. He wanted freedom. Now he has less than nothing.

Helgen is looming ever closer, only a few minutes away. He’s never been this far south, wonders what it would be like to go as far as he was planning, to skirt the border, visit some place like Falkreath. Now he’ll never know.

Ralof is off on another tangent about Imperial swine and fighting for the true king of Skyrim, and when he addresses Cael to try to bring him partway into the conversation Cael smiles, biting around the gag and pretending to care. He’s the odd man out in this situation, but as soon as he gets this fabric out of his mouth he’s going to let everyone know just how much he hates Ulfric, how much he’ll enjoy watching the executioner put him in his place.

They’re in the outskirts of Helgen, now, passing under the gate and watching houses slip by inch after inch. Guards on patrol gaze at them with contempt, pausing to watch them, and Cael stares back, unfazed. He’s ready to go out in a blaze of glory, ready to look like he’s done bigger and better things. Infamous enough to be sitting with the jarl of Windhelm. One last lie.

People stand on their porches, and those that are more respectful stare at them and whisper behind their hands. Others call out to them, jeers and cruel words meant to hurt. It makes Cael want to laugh. It almost makes him hate the size of Helgen. He wants to be somewhere bigger, more important. Wants to die on a stage. A single taste of fame.

The cart stops, and they’ve arrived.

“This is it. End of the line.” Ralof stands just as the Imperial soldiers call an order for the prisoners to file out of the cart.

They silently obey and jump down, and the cold ground is a salve to Cael’s aching and splintered feet. He has to shuffle to stay on his feet, but for once he doesn’t care how he looks to outsiders. Lokir and Ralof argue, Lokir’s voice marred by fear and Ralof’s the steady sound of acceptance. “You’ve got to tell them! We weren’t with you, this is a mistake!” Lokir tries to stand close to the Redguard—whose name Cael has already forgotten, attempting to hide behind her large frame, but she backs away as much as she can without bumping into Cael behind her.

Ralof sighs, “Face your death with some courage, thief.” The Imperial guard begins calling their names. Ulfric goes first. Then Ralof. Lokir is called next.

“No, no you can’t do this! We’re not rebels!” He looks frantically between the Redguard and Cael still standing beside her, gesturing to them as best he can with his hands bound. The guard grunts and steps forward, attempting to grab onto Lokir’s arm to force him to join Ralof, Ulfric, and the other condemned, and he ducks underneath the outstretched arm, breaking out into a dead sprint up the path they had come from. 

“Halt!” the soldier yells, hand on his sword hilt.

“You’re not going to kill me!” Lokir nearly makes it past the second house before the order is given to do just that. He half-trips, hands still bound and unable to catch himself, but manages to regain his balance. His agility is gone in the wake of his fear.

“Archers!” Two arrows pierce Lokir’s back, and the man falls. Cael watches and feels unease bubbling in his gut. Death has always been a fact of life, something he never paid much mind to when he was hunting, when the people around him were being murdered in the name of a higher power.

The guard turns back to the Redguard and Cael. “Anyone else feel like running?” Cael tries to say something around the gag in his mouth— _I’d rather take a horse, if you’re offering—_ and the Redguard glances at him through the corner of her eye, brows furrowed. The guard purses his lips, looking down at his list again to check for them. “You two. Step forward, and name yourself.”

The Redguard steps forward readily and Cael watches her with wide eyes. _You’re not even going to try to convince them you shouldn’t be here? If your name isn’t on the list why are you giving up?_

She looks tall and proud when she looks at the guard. “Sauti al-M’situ. From Solitude.”

_Sauti,_ he thinks, thankful he didn’t have to ask for it. He supposes it doesn’t matter, and he doesn’t know if he even cares enough to commit it to memory before he dies. _I’ll be surprised if we speak more than a few words to each other._

The guard grunts, noncommittal, and pens her down onto his list. When she steps away the man’s eyes fall to Cael. He stares back, equally unimpressed. “Name,” he repeats, pen poised above the paper.

_Or what? You’ll kill me?_ He can’t even speak the words, and he doesn’t make any move to untie the gag. He wonders if they’ll kill him with this cloth in his mouth or give him one last fresh breath of air.

As though reading his thoughts, someone comes up behind him and removes the gag with fumbling fingers. He rolls his tongue around his mouth, wetting it, and for a brief moment he swears he doesn’t know how to talk.

“Na—”

“Cael,” he says, quick. Just to get done with the entire ordeal. He wonders if his name will live on for a few moments after his death, if his life will be carried in someone’s mind till the end of the day. _I doubt it._

They don’t even have enough respect to let him walk to the line, and it forces him to shuffle up behind the Redguard— _Sauti, I remember_. She glances at him again out of the corner of her eye, watching him like a hawk when he comes to stand beside her. A priest is standing at the chopping block, arms outstretched to the heavens as she blesses them through the word of the divine.

“So,” he starts, and the word feels strange in his dehydrated mouth. She doesn’t look at him again, but the disgust is clear on her face, and it makes him smile, “what brings you here?”

“Death.”

Cael purses his lips, looking at her for a second extra than necessary. _Strange,_ he thinks. A little too stoic for his tastes. _Got something to prove to the Gods?_ If he were anywhere else he would’ve seen himself out, but the two of them are some of the last in line, so he doesn’t even get the relief of being able to walk to the chopping block. The executioner’s blade is going to be nice and warm by the time they get there.

Someone cuts off the priest, volunteering himself to go first, and Cael watches him. It’s one of the first times in his life he hasn’t felt a joking word or one-liner come to mind, and he feels the seriousness like a physical weight in his chest. It would be wrong to speak ill of the dead while waiting his turn to meet the afterlife.

The priest utters a few soft words, and the executioner lifts his axe high, high, high in the air before swinging it down with twice as much force. Blood spatters the ground, and the man’s body lolls to the side, thumping on the ground. Empty. His head sits in a basket, and Cael sees his eyes peering out from between the wicker. He looks away.

The sky is aflutter with movement, clouds swirling. Cael looks up at them, eyes following the line of the mountains rising into the heavens, swallowed, and wonders if they naturally do that here. Where the earth meets the sky. It’s dark, darker than it was a moment before. A fitting day for rain.

“You!” The guard calls, standing off to the side of the block. She points at Sauti, eyes glittering behind her helmet. “Redguard!”

Cael looks up again, sharp. He realizes a moment after she’s spoken who she’s calling to, and that takes him even more by surprise. They were expected to stand here for at least an hour or so, but with the guard picking and choosing who they want killed he doesn’t know how long he’s going to last.

Sauti is tense beside him, and he watches the muscle slide in the side of her jaw. _So you know this isn’t fair._ She still steps forward, though, pushing her way through the throng of Nord prisoners and stopping by the block. The guard who called her out pushes the body out of her way, and Cael’s stomach rolls unpleasantly when blood oozes into the dirt, mind playing out what he’ll look like soon enough. It’s torture, being aquainted with the executioner’s axe this way.

There’s a strange, almost unearthly sound somewhere far away. Cael looks away from the Redguard and up to the sky, and he swears the clouds are moving. Disturbed by something and turning darker with every passing second. The people around him are all staring up in the same manner, murmuring and twisting around like there’s something just out of sight no one can see. He’s uneasy, nervous, feeling something he’s never felt before that might be fear but might not.

He looks back down when there’s a slight commotion, watching the guard unceremoniously shove Sauti to her knees, holding her there with a boot between her shoulder blades. It makes him angry, more than a little bit, that they’ve both supposedly been taken in for crimes that don’t exist only to be manhandled on top of it.

There’s a boom of thunder close above them, and Cael instinctively jumps. The sounds are playing on his nerves, making him grind his teeth, and he doesn’t know what to focus on to make it better. He doesn’t want to be miserable and uncomfortable the entire time he’s waiting to die but it seems he doesn’t have a choice.

The executioner lifts his axe, reflecting what little sunlight there is across the yard. Another boom of thunder. He looks up and swears he sees something poking through the bottom of the clouds, disturbing them further.

Something rockets out of the sky, diving toward them, and with a belated breath he realizes it’s a _dragon._

“By the _Nines,_ what is that?!” the guard shouts.

The dragon lands, hulking and massive, onto the guard tower in front of them, and Cael nearly loses his footing when the ground quakes. Part of the tower falls in, sending rubble cascading down around them. It shrieks, mouth open wide, and no one has time to react before the sky is filled with fire.

Cael doesn’t wait to see what happens. Prisoners are stumbling into each other, knocking into _him,_ and he struggles to keep up, keep _moving._ His feet are still bound, forcing him to shuffle and hop through the crowd in search of somewhere safe to wait and hide. He watches people shove and huddle their families into their homes and knows not one of them is going to survive. The dragon turns its head, looking down at all of them, and Cael feels fear like a dagger in his heart.

It opens its mouth again, breathing fire, and it arcs, heating the air. It’s immediately hard to breathe, and he ducks out of the way when sparks trickle down over them, stabbing like pins. With a great heft of its weight it throws itself forward, wings beating air down on them that overturns the carts and knocks everyone flat.

There, to the right, is a sturdy looking stone keep. He looks back at everyone scrambling around him, then up at the dragon, circling through the air as though it’s looking for something. It opens its mouth again, and instead of fire it speaks in a gravely, thunderous voice.

Cael knows enough about Shouts to know what’s coming, and flips his weight over onto his stomach, crawling forward as best as he can. Heat licks at the back of his neck, and he winces, squeezing his eyes shut when the world goes bright white and orange above him. His ears are ringing, panic coursing through his veins. People are running around him, screaming, and the breath leaves his lungs when someone steps over his back.

Someone grabs the back of his shirt, and he makes a sound, surprised, thankful. They set him down on his feet, half dragging him toward the keep.

It’s Sauti, face set in stone and neck bloodied. He wonders if the executioner took a swing at her or if he missed. He supposes it doesn’t matter.

She drags him into the keep, and lets him go just inside, slamming the door shut. There’s a dagger close to his face, fisted in her hand, and for a moment he thinks she’s going to stab him with it before she shoves him back to the ground. He grunts when his back hits the flagstone, confused and furious. “What the hell?”

When he meets her eye again she’s just finished barricading the door, and he pretends he doesn’t hear the shouting, the screams, just outside. The hands pounding on the wood door. They’re still prisoners, and he doesn’t want to know how long it’s going to take for a guard to catch up with them and kill them on the spot. _It’s us or them._

Sauti crouches in front of him, dagger still in hand, and he sticks his hands out stupidly, pushing himself back to try to get away from her. She’s looming over top of him, threatening. “Get— _off—!”_

He struggles weakly when she grabs his hands, and she jerks him easily, forcing him to come closer. “Stop _thrashing!”_

A noise slips out of his throat, half disbelief and half panic, and he thrashes more. _Are you really going to kill me? Right_ now? _All I have is the clothes on my back, and they’re not even nice!_

She grunts, furious, and grips him harder. He winces when she comes at him with the dagger, but she cuts through the rope around his wrists and he can do nothing but watch. It scratches his, cuts him more than once, but then the bindings are gone and he’s free again. She drops him just as roughly as before and he’s forced to catch his weight onto his hands when she moves down to cut the rope off his ankles. There’s no hesitation in her movements, no care, nothing gentle, but he doesn’t pay any mind to the nicks and cuts. _She’s letting me free._

“We need to find an exit,” Sauti says, looking up at him and then gazing around them.

She doesn’t waste her breath on him, and he helps himself up off the ground. His body aches—after not eating full meals, hardly drinking anything for the past few days, being cooped up and held in the back of a cart with nowhere else to sleep, he’s more than a little exhausted. His whole body feels wrong, weak, but he pushes through it. _I don’t have a choice._

Cael is halfway to her when the tower shakes violently, and he covers his head when more debris rains down on them. He barely has time to recognize the dragon, it’s head, and he throws himself down onto the ground behind the stairs just before it shoots fire into the turret above them. Hot air consumes everything, and the breath is stolen from his lungs again. It feels like he has a thousand burns covering him head to toe.

The dragon shrieks again, and he covers his ears, fingers clawing at his head as though he can scratch the sound out. It hurts, everything _hurts,_ and for a split second he has no hope that they’ll survive this. Everything is happening all at once, things that shouldn’t, creatures that shouldn’t be _alive,_ and yet they are.

Wind beats down on them, knocking him flat and billowing his ill-fitted clothes, and he hears the sound of wings before the dragon is gone. His vision is swimming when he looks up, sweat dripping from his chin. He thinks he might pass out. A chunk of the tower is missing, stones shimmering with heat, red and dripping. The dragon roars, and he hears ringing, screaming, heat crackling the air.

There’s a hole in the floor, broken by some of the rubble, and Sauti is standing by it, looking at him. She yells something, and he sees her mouth move but no sound comes out.

He goes for her anyway. It takes a moment for him to get his feet underneath him, and the world tilts dangerously. He ignores it.

It looks like a tunnel. A hallway, maybe. A secret passage. “We have to go!” Sauti yells, and he only just makes out the words, muffled and thick in his ears.

_Don’t have to tell me twice._ He slips down, shaking hands scrabbling at the walls for good handholds. Climbing is something he’s good at, but now—no balance and no strength—he finds he spends more time falling than anything else. There’s only so much to hold onto before the walls turn to ceiling and he has nothing left to hold onto. He’s forced to let go.

The world is still teetering, but he manages to catch himself. It’s blessedly cool underneath Helgen, and he leans his weight on the wall, trying to get his bearings as quickly as possible. He starts to move, to stumble, to _run,_ but catches himself and looks up. Sauti is climbing down, careful, and he thinks he should help but doesn’t know how. There’s no way he would be able to catch her. _She’s huge._

He’s not sure what keeps him in place, but he waits. Waits even though he’s bouncing on his toes by the time she’s finally dropped down all the way, and he looks her over once, not caring to speak and knowing if she tries he won’t be able to hear it. He’s leaning against the wall, bare skin pressed against the stone to try and cool down. It’s never been this hot, not the entire time he’s grown up, and it makes him feel faint.

They start off further down into the dark, and the more ground they cover the less they can hear of the dragon. It’s still loud, loud enough that Cael can catch bits and pieces of its voice. The air around them is starting to heat, and he wonders what Helgen looks like right now, if there are still people alive, running around like ants and hoping to survive just the way they are.

He’s careful not to trip while his vision adjusts to the darkness, lamplight flickering here and there, few and far between. Sauti is even more careful behind him, and he wonders how good Redguard vision is. She stumbles into him once or twice, and he grunts, trying to put space between them. _You may have helped me but we’re not friends._

They haven’t run into anyone, not yet, but the way they move belies unconscious stealth. It feels like they’re both waiting for someone to jump out of the shadows, knives in hand, swords to their throats, arrows nocked and ready to fly. But there’s no one around. Just them and the darkness to keep them company. He wonders how many people, prisoners or otherwise, have found their way underground, too. It’s a labyrinth of stone hallways. They could end up in Markarth and he wouldn’t be surprised. Sauti is an easy companion—quiet and careful and handy.

The decline tapers off and leaves them in a room lined with cages, and he presses his body closer to the wall, peeking around the doorway. It’s empty besides a few people rousing behind bars, bodies beaten and bruised and naked. Cael scans the room again once they’re further inside, looking for guards, and when he comes up empty he starts to shuffle through the shelves and cabinets for something of use. Sauti doesn’t hesitate to do the same.

He doesn’t find much of worth. A few pieces of bread and some carrots. He passes over the potatoes, not wanting to cook. It just needs to last him a few days, enough to get from Helgen to the closest city. It could be anywhere, he realizes, a couple hours to a couple weeks, and he thinks twice about the potatoes. _Just a few._

When he looks over he sees Sauti digging through things, discarding what she doesn’t want on the floor. He watches, eyeing the broken vials and smashed foods. She’s got things in her hands that she must’ve deemed useful, and they really look the part of common thieves, people that _should_ be on the back of prison carts. She glances at him once, challenging. He minds his business.

There’s a pack on the table next to a dagger and he shoves his things into it, throwing it onto his back. The dagger likely won’t do much for it, but he picks it up anyway, intending to hand it over to her. She looks like she only knows how to use a sword, but he thinks it’s basically the same concept. _A hilt and a blade._

He almost knocks a magicka potion onto the floor, and grabs it with fumbling hands, uncorking it and drinking it down. There’s still an unfortunate weakness to his bones, but he places his hands to his ears and heals with what little energy he has. Sound comes back to him with a pop, and he hisses.

Sauti has opened up a chest in the corner of the room and is pulling on old armor, and he hurries to her, digging through what she’s left. He offers the dagger, dragging his hands through the chest and coming up with nothing good.

“Leave it,” she says, gruff.

He huffs when she walks away, casting the dagger aside. _Just trying to help._ Most of the armor is either trash or barely held together, and what isn’t is too big for him. He’s already small, too thin and willowy for Nord armor, and is far shorter than anything that _might_ fit him. In the end he settles on Stormcloak leathers, trying to ignore the irony and cursing his elvish blood the entire time he’s dressing.

There’s a lockpick in the satchel at his waist, the only useful thing, and he makes quick work of the weapons cell, rummaging through the blades on the wall. After some shuffling he finds a bow in the corner of the room that he gravitates to, and he plucks it off the wall. He tests the string.

“Here,” Sauti says. He turns to her, and the first thing he sees is her outfit. When he snorts she scowls even more than she already has been. _“What.”_

Her outfit has been ripped to shreds, leaving her midsection and legs mostly uncovered save for some skins hanging over her thighs. The only things completely covered are her shoulders and breasts. “Nothing.”

She blinks, looking at him strangely, and he frowns. _What? Is there something on my face?_ He doesn’t ask that, just picks up a quiver and hangs that at his hip, too. It’s a little too long but he ignores the way it bumps into his knee. She’s still got a sword held out to him, and he walks around her, trying to shoulder his pack a little better through his oversized armor. “I don’t need it.”

She makes a noise, and he works his teeth, trying not to give any mind to the way it seems to slide up the back of his spine. _I can’t wait to be as far away from you as I possibly can._ She’s strange and confusing and _rude_ and he just wants to be free of Skyrim and everybody that comes with it.

“You won’t be much use in close combat,” she says, and the words are so blunt and matter of fact that it takes him off guard.

The ground above them rumbles, and he looks up at the ceiling when dust and gravel fall onto them. There’s an unearthly shriek, again, and when the dragon shouts chunks of stone fall onto their heads. The shockwave knocks Cael to his knees again, and he’s reminded of the severity of their situation.

He’s not in any rush to find out what will happen if they wait here, and he gets to his feet quickly, moving to the door. A voice nags in the back of his head, reminding him to stay, and he takes a deep breath to force the nerves away, turning to see where Sauti is, _the bitch._

She’s on her knees by the cages lining the wall, unlocking them one by one, and he grits his teeth. “Come _on,”_ he urges.

“I won’t leave them here to die.” Her voice is even but the lilt on the end gives insight to the nerves she’s feeling.

_Fuck._ He nearly tears his pouch pulling a lockpick out and kneels on the ground, opening the cage closest to him. They don’t have time to waste here saving lives, and even less if he were to wait for her to finish the job. _I just want to be free of this hellhole._

He finishes opening the last cell and gets to his feet, not waiting for Sauti this time. She’s at his heels, he hears the heavy thump of her boots on the floor, and it only makes him want to go faster, to run and not stop until they’re free. _I’m sorry,_ he thinks belatedly to the people they’ve just released, _you’re on your own now._

The ground trembles above them, dropping dust onto their heads, and Cael looks up without thinking. They’ve both gone stiff, watching and waiting for the ceiling to fall in and hoping it doesn’t. A beat passes, then another, and the trembling stops.

They move on, not wanting the others to catch up to them before they’re out. Who knows what the two of them have left that’s worth anything, and Cael doesn’t want to become a casualty just so some poor mage can disappear into the forests for the rest of her life. It’s only a few minutes until the stone walls open out into an underground cave. The river that they’ve been hearing is barreling down the middle of the path, winding carelessly, pounding mercilessly against the rock and sending spray up into their faces. They pass a few old jars and a couple of skeletons and Cael wonders just how long this cave has existed.

The light is changing, sliding from a deep grey to the flickering light of day, and without thinking they both move a little faster. _Yes,_ he thinks, relieved. He picks his way over the rock with sure steps. _Finally._

The thought is ripped from him when Sauti grabs his arm, nearly jerking him onto the ground. He swings around, palm open to slap against her neck, her face, her chest, electricity jolting through his veins if she decides she actually does want to kill him. Her hand slaps down on his mouth, but she’s not looking at him.

“Are you trying to get yourself killed?” she hisses.

He follows her sight and settles when he sees the form hunkered down near the mouth of the cave. At first glance he had thought it was a rock, but he sees the fur now, the way it moves slightly with every breath. Sauti lets him go and he falls into a slight crouch.

“That was a little _unnecessary,_ don’t you think?” he snaps, voice so low it’s almost nonexistent.

She narrows her eyes, and her lips still have that persistent downturn. He thinks if the setting were different she might’ve punched him in the teeth by now. “Yes, how horrible of me to save your life.” She slips around him, and he’s surprised someone with such a large frame could be so quiet. “I’m the only one that seems to have picked a useful weapon. Stay hidden.”

His mouth drops open, annoyed and surprised by the way she assumes she’s in charge. He huffs, starting to argue, but she just shakes her head and moves on. _I could’ve killed you and you didn’t even notice._

She moves slowly, quietly, across the cave, and after a moment he slips forward himself. There are a couple hundred feet between them and the mouth of the cave, but he walks toward them anyway, eye on Sauti and bow out just in case she needs help. _I’ll show you a useful weapon._ It’s petty and childish and he knows he’s just looking for a chance to show off but he doesn’t care enough to stop himself.

For a moment, just a few long seconds, he thinks about leaving her here. Waiting outside to see if she makes it out alive. She’s cheated death once today through help from the heavens, now it’s a question of doing it a second time. He doesn’t leave though, just hesitates on the edge of the light and watches.

It seems like she has it. Standing by the bear and poising her blade at its throat. She readies herself, raising the sword to kill, but she jerks as though she’s been hit in the back and fumbles her sword. He hears the sound from where he is across the cave, and Sauti stumbles back, trying to catch herself.

The bear wakes up as soon as she hisses, jerking to its feet. It’s still tired, but only for a moment, and it allows her to grab its neck just as it falls forward on top of her. Cael isn’t in a good place, staring at its back and unable to hit anything vital. Sauti has her blade in hand but isn’t able to do anything beside knock it in the side of the head.

It only takes Cael a few seconds to nock an arrow and run the few steps he needs to have a better target, and he looses the arrow as soon as he can. It thunks through the bear’s eye, and he watches it stagger, then fall.

_Useless my ass._ He walks to her, in no hurry to help her up, and she shoves the carcass off of herself.

“Are you trying to get yourself killed?” he mocks, not without bite. She looks livid, and he doesn’t care for a second. It looks like she’s in pain, struggling to get herself to her feet, but he just eyes her.

It takes a moment but she gets to her feet. She towers over him, and her hand on her blade is white-knuckled, a vague threat. If she swung at him now he has no doubt she would kill him. _I dare you._

_“You,”_ she starts, and now he’s certain she’s debating whether or not to end his life, “are beginning to grate on my nerves, _Elf.”_

He sneers, turning around to leave. “Lucky that you won’t be dealing with me much longer, then, _Redguard.”_

She doesn’t follow him for a beat, but he doesn’t care to wait. Safety waits just a few feet away, he hopes, and he’s not going to stay and wait for the next cave bear to make this its home. _A life for a life,_ he thinks, and he’s pleased that he doesn’t have a potential debt waiting for him.

He hurries up the incline to the outside, pausing by the lip of the cave to make sure they’re in the clear. It looks like they’ve come out in the middle of a forested area, pines rising to the sky and no road in sight. When he steps further out into the open he smells smoke, and the further away from the mountain he gets the more he sees. It’s quiet for a moment, not a sound around them, and he clenches his hand on his bow.

The dragon shoots out above them, wings snapping the air and forcing the trees to bend. It knocks him over for the umpteenth time that day, and he shields his eyes, but it doesn’t seem interested in them. It roars again, a piercing sound, and with a few more flaps of its wings it disappears into the clouds.

“Thank the Gods,” he murmurs, getting back to his feet.

Sauti steps out of the cave, shielding her eyes against the sun and surveying their surroundings. There’s an unnameable distance between them now that they’re free. The only threads holding them together have unraveled, and he finds that he doesn’t mind in the slightest. No, he’s thankful for it.

“We don’t know if that beast is gone,” she says, stomping past him. He doesn’t know if she’s just picked a direction to walk or if she actually knows what she’s doing. “Take care not to let your guard down.”

It sounds like that’s it, that they’re done, and Cael looks up to the sky again, on edge. A part of him is waiting for it to continue, the fire and the Shouting and the screaming. He doesn’t want to stay and find out. “Do you even know where you’re going?”

He calls the words after her, but she doesn’t stop, doesn’t even hesitate. Her frame is disappearing into the treeline, and he decides, on a whim, to follow after her.

“Yes,” she says. When she hears him coming up on her she glances at him, disapproval and unhappiness plain on her face. “Don’t follow me.”

_Or what?_ He doesn’t listen to her, walking just out of arm’s reach in case she decides she does want him dead. “I’d rather not die in the middle of the woods because you didn’t want me to walk next to you.”

She looks like she’s about to say something else, but Cael just looks forward and she seems to think better of it. Maybe because they’re both exhausted, bone tired and on edge. He doesn’t want to push it and neither does she. Fighting wastes energy.

They walk for hours, pushing their way through the brush and wilds, sun descending past the tree line. It’ll be too dark to continue soon, and as much as he doesn’t want to be with Sauti any longer than necessary it wouldn’t be smart to separate in the middle of the night. _I can put up with it,_ he thinks, eyes scanning the woods for anything he can turn into a meal. _I can deal with it for just a while longer._ He consoles himself by knowing after they’re somewhere safe they won’t ever have to see each other again. It only works so much.

Sauti slows down when the sky begins to darken, and eventually she stops in a small clearing. He’s reminded of human eyesight, not being able to see in the dark, and how much worse they hear. _How have they survived this long?_ He watches her set her things aside and start gathering wood for a fire.

There’s no invitation for him to join her, and he doesn’t expect one. Instead he sets his things down not much further away, trekking into the underbrush with his bow out. He has food, plenty to last him if he rations, but if he can make it last just a little bit longer it will be worth it.

In the end he returns to their makeshift camp with a turkey. It’s still strange to him, this act of roughing it in the wild, hunting and hiding and trying to protect himself as best as he can. He’s used to the stone walls of Windhelm, bitter cold and empty. Stealing instead of foraging. He’s not sure if he likes this better or worse.

Sauti has gathered quite a bit of wood, and he watches her from across the clearing while he de-feathers the turkey. It’s slow going, just another thing he’s not used to, and he ignores the blood spilling over his fingers. She works with a piece of flint for a long few moments, fingers shaking from the cold, and then reaches out over the wood, hands held out like she’s trying to do a spell. The wood smokes, sparking, and she curses when nothing lights.

In an uncharacteristic moment of kindness Cael flicks his hand, lighting the fire in a blaze. She jerks back, eyes falling to him, and he thinks it’s the most livid she’s looked yet. “Are you _trying_ to kill me?”

He rolls his eyes, angry now, too, and works on his bird. It’s only partially cleaned, half skin and half feathers. “You were closer to killing yourself. Who taught you magic?” _You need work._

After a beat she says, “I thought you were a marksman.” It sounds like a challenge, the start of a potential fight, but Cael wants to preserve their truce for as long as their fates are tossed up in the air like this.

They don’t talk after that, Cael giving all his energy to sloppily skinning his turkey and Sauti huddled by her fire with her old bread. Ignoring the blood on his hands, Cael slices bits of meat off and cooks them over a fire he summons to his palm, stuffing them into his mouth piece by piece. It’s no well cooked meal, but it fills him and that’s all he can ask for until he has the money to pay for someone else’s food.

There’s still a lot of meat left by the time he’s finished, and he glances up at Sauti. She’s wrapped up in her furs, as close to her fire as she can get, and he wonders what this must be like for her. Unable to see with hardly any protection against the cold, only an old blade and a half broken shield to keep herself safe.

He should be out for himself, only looking after his own hide and nobody else’s, but he can’t bring himself to. She saved him and he saved her and they both survived a dragon attack. He can’t help but feel some sort of kinship. _She’s more honorable than most of the people in Windhelm. Even with the animosity._

Cael strips himself of his cuirass, slipping his oversized shirt off his back and dragging himself over to her side of the camp. She looks up at him sharply, a wild animal, and her fingers tense further around her blade, a threat. He doesn’t respond, only tosses his shirt into her lap.

“Here,” he says, before she can speak. He holds what’s left of the turkey out to her.

She looks him over, eyebrows knit together. Like this is some huge elaborate trick she’s not privy to. “You’ll freeze.”

“I won’t.” He pushes the turkey further into her space, and she jerks back to avoid it’s bloodied flank hitting her in the face. “Do you want it or not?”

She still seems to think it’s a trick, but she accepts to turkey slowly, and he lets it go, wiping his pants on his way back to his pack. The air in their camp is strange, tense but no longer vitriolic. _For now._

He backs his body against a tree, legs close to his chest and pack protecting his feet. The entire journey down to the border he had carefully conserved his energy, saved just enough to make a ward around his camp, but he doesn’t know if he has it in him after everything that’s happened today. It pushes him to move closer to Sauti, no more than ten feet away, and he sets up a weak barrier around them. Nothing that will keep out anything big, definitely not a dragon. Just enough to protect them from a few hits until they wake up.

The magic takes everything he has left, and he falls asleep with his head in his arms.

**Author's Note:**

> Wow, you made it to the end. I'm surprised someone actually read this! if you want to talk or ask any questions my twitter is @naiesu_s, hope you liked the story so far!


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